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Sometimes It’s Hard

Sometimes it’s hard being a Black* Chick married to a White Guy.  Being a six hour plane ride from my family and only a 45 minute from his makes it harder.  We spend a lot of time with them which only increases the amount of time I spend in soley white spaces.  White, conservative, Christian spaces. It takes a lot of energy to be the right kind of me for that. I always end the evening drained. I don’t say this to play the martyr. I LOVE my sister-in-law even if she was born in the 90s and I have to exclaim “WHY ARE YOU SO YOUNG” way too often when she doesn’t immediately understand my pop culture references.

But sometimes, just sometimes, I wish I had (more) Black friends.

School is a bit more diverse, but there are no other Black social work doctoral students. Chinese, Korean, Japanese, White, Indian (from India), Mexican, Latino American but I’m the only Black. It’s great to be around such diversity the international components and perspectives are great.

But I wish I had (more) Black friends.

I wish I could talk about white privilege without having to qualify it and jump to intersectionality to quell the “but I’m not as privileged as…” comments. I wish I could talk mention racism without having to immediately apologize.

I’m tired of conversations like the one I had yesterday.

“I’m not saying he’s a racist I’m saying what he said was racist.”

“lets say…condescending…or problematic…”

“uhhh it was racist”

“thats not helpful”

I wish I had Black friends.

I want to go see Dear White People. TeacherMan admits he thinks it may make him uncomfortable**. I know how that feels. I don’t want to be the cause of that so I told him I’d go see it alone. This upsets him.

I wish I had Black friends.

*I used to use the term Black-ish, but now thats a tv show. so yeah.

**Not the word he used but I can’t remember the exact word so close enough.

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Comments on: "Sometimes It’s Hard" (3)

  1. Love you. And I wish for more community for you too.

    • Amen! This life is not; if not for the nucleus and the cell, this humanity called hell. Keep going, keep preaching, don’t ever stop teaching! But do not separate, that which God has made the same. It is hard is it not? To love the ‘Kettle AND the pot’. the new from the late. The hue from the haze, the skin from the maze; the Pandora shape called “Heart”, has more color than art, on its skin you see no segregation. Try to see every heart by their actions, not by their beat. Close your eyes, become blind, “WE” are you and me, and everyone in-between. Once you see this, then you’ll see. Its not THEM, its ME. It’s not ME, it’s WE! We are accountable to that same living tree. A tree once raised high, yet now forgotten. Still the roots remain. Rendering you and me the same. WE ARE FROM THE SAME FAMILY! There ain’t no sweeter sound than the “Amazing Grace”, that can’t be found, One Love, a selfless Heart, but if that’s true, when did it start? Now, I’m not trying to upset the cart. Far from it my friend, that ain’t my part. What I hope for all of us to see, is that when we hate something we must search our own heart to see that we don’t do that which we hate. Rather than wishing for friends of a color,pray your God for TRUE Friendship. For any race any color, has the ability to relate or frustrate. Both are capable of betrayal and blessing. True friendship, and the ability to Love. You think about it, come up with your own conclusion. Is it really Color, or is it people of like mind and experience that you crave? Don’t do that same thing,that the White race still stands trial for to this day. Don’t segregate. Close your eyes, imagine every human on the planet as being all the same color, then go forward and chose your friends. It needs not be about color anymore. Go and make it be about love. Peace.

  2. […] Therapy Is Expensive […]

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